


Slip Up

by notaguitarfret



Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [11]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, F/F, Jealousy, cw shutdown, i've forgotten how to tag things it's been four months
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 15:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17551946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret
Summary: Heather Chandler finds something out about Veronica.





	Slip Up

It had by no means been long since they had left Heather Duke’s home, but being aware of her shitty memory, Chandler made sure to remind herself mental note of asking Duke about her conversation with her parents as she drove towards Veronica’s house, knowing the end result was going to be, to put it in the most sweetest words she could, utterly _shit_. She was well aware of how powerless she currently was; as little as she feared Duke’s parents, she knew better than to refuse to leave the house so that Duke could avoid confrontation. Doing so would gain her nothing, and simply place Duke in an even worse position.

Besides, Duke was strong enough to face her parents by herself. She’d live to tell the tale. And she better, as Chandler absolutely wanted to hear the tale later.

“I hope Heather’s okay,” she suddenly heard Veronica say from next to her. Chandler snapped her gaze towards her for a brief second.

“She’ll be fine,” she told her. “And if she isn’t, she’ll rant to us about it tomorrow.”

Veronica let out a lone chuckle. “I didn’t realise her family were so shit,” she lamented. Chandler just gave a huff.

“Not to ruin any more surprises, but none of us have good families,” Chandler stated bluntly. “Though I suppose Heather’s are the worst.” She paused and hummed in thought. “Then again, there was Mac’s mother-”

“Am I the only one in this group with decent parents?” Veronica asked. Chandler gave a snort and a nod.  
  
“No need to boast.”

Veronica cringed. “I wasn’t, I was just-”

Chandler cut her off with a laugh.

“Look, just be grateful you have parents who either don’t give two shits or feel the need to stick their noses up your business constantly, okay?”

Veronica looked uncertain. Uncomfortable, even, but she nodded regardless. Chandler simply rolled her eyes at her discomfort towards her light-hearted joke.

“Hey, Heather?”

Chandler turned back towards her.

“Mhmm?”

Veronica pursed her lips. “Wrong turn.”

Chandler paused for a moment, before looking forward onto the road.

“But I turned left?”

She heard Veronica giggle. “No, I can promise you that you turned right.”

Chandler’s brows knitted, and she glanced at her hands. She made a note of which direction she had turned the wheel, created two ‘L’ shapes with her hands and determined that the way she turned the wheel-

-was a backwards L. Not left. Goddammit.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Chandler groaned as she began to scan the road for a place to turn around. Meanwhile she heard Veronica chuckle from next to her, and the sound was sweet enough for her to drop the annoyance rippling under her skin as she was forced to take a turn down a side road to turn her car around.

“Not so good with directions, are you?” Veronica teased. Chandler just pouted at her, feeling slightly embarrassed at being called out for one of her worst habits.

“No need to rub it in,” she retorted, but she couldn’t help but grin at the sound of her voice, the sound of Veronica being friendly to her. It was enough to break down her barriers for a brief moment, causing her to be foolish enough to admit to such a silly weakness, and enough for her to not give a shit about what Veronica may think of her, the sound was just so goddamn beautiful.

Because she’d only just realised it, but she hadn’t really heard such a thing in quite a while. Why that was, she had no idea, but whatever the reason may be, she didn’t care. It clearly no longer mattered.

What did matter is the fact that Veronica seemed to be enjoying sitting inches apart from her, and enjoying her company. At last.

“Great, we’re here!”

Veronica’s voice broke through her skull and switched her thoughts off, and she realised that she had already turned down Veronica’s road, and was slowing her car as they rolled up to her house.

“Oh,” is all Heather said as she stopped in front of Veronica’s garden. The road was quiet, as it would be for a Sunday afternoon. So quiet that it emphasised every sound that she could hear.

That sound being Veronica saying,

“Thanks for the lift, Heather.” She gave her a warm smile, one that made her heart ram into her chest, only to be followed by it twisting as Veronica’s hand gripped the door handle, ready to open it. “I’ll see you tomorro-”

“ _Wait!_ ” Chandler cut her off with a desperate plea and her hand gripping onto Veronica’s grey shirt. She snapped her head back to Heather, her mocha eyes rounded with surprise and confusion. She locked eyes with her, and they stared at each other while holding the weight of a heavy silence on their shoulders.

“What is it?” Veronica eventually broke the silence with a slow, uncertain question. Chandler realised her mouth had been hanging open the entire time, as if she were waiting for herself to speak. She closed it to actually think of what she had stopped Veronica for, but every idea that popped into her head was nothing to do with starting any sort of conversation. Nothing to do with words.

No, it was to do with the thing that her eyes had trailed down to without her even noticing.

She could try to lie to herself and say that her hand had a mind of its own when it tugged Veronica even closer to her, making it so that the space between their lips were that of centimeters, but at this point, she was willing to admit that, fuck, she just really wanted to kiss Veronica Sawyer.

It had been too goddamn long.

“This is… familiar,” Veronica murmured, her breath stroking her lips as she spoke, causing a shudder to shoot up her spine. Her lids fluttered as she inhaled deeply, catching the scent of Veronica’s perfume, she was so fucking close to the girl.

“‘Ronica,” Heather grumbled, “you talk way too fucking much.”

She was sure she heard Veronica squeak as she pulled her even closer, this time closing the gap between them. She could tell it was a shock for Veronica as their lips met, with how she tensed under her grip. But she was quick to melt into her hold as she cupped the back of her neck and placed a hand on her side, and Heather felt two hands grip her hips, nails digging into her ever so slightly. She would’ve let out a gasp, had her mouth not been so busy.

 _Fuck… fuck I’ve missed this,_ Heather mused as she trailed her fingers over Veronica’s sides. _What the hell have I been doing for the past two weeks?_ She parted for about half a second to catch a gulp of air. _Why the hell would I want to do anything else but this?_

Her eyes would occasionally open to watch her hands as they made their way to the top of her shirt, grasping the first button. It kept escaping her long nails as she tried to slip it through the hole, but she eventually was able to unfascine it, before moving down to the next one. And the next one. And the-

“Uh, w-wait, Heather-” Veronica mumbled against her lips, breaking off from the heated kiss to grab her wrists. Heather eyes flashed open at the feeling of something grappling her wrists, and she was quick to snatch them back.

“What?”

Veronica stammered. “I don’t think- you shouldn’t- we’re in a car, Heather!” she eventually exclaimed. “In public.”

Chandler scoffed at her. “It’s Sunday. No one’s left their fucking beds, never mind peeking into my car.”

Not even giving Veronica a chance to respond, she returned to the task at hand and managed to slip another button through the hole, but Veronica’s hand blocked her

“Still, it’s uh… a little risky, don’t you think?”

Her voice went strangely high pitched. In a way that seemed unnatural. It made her arch a brow.

“Are your parents in?”

“No- _yes!_ Yes, they’re in.” The grin on Veronica’s lips looked painfully forced. “So, y’know, not the _best_ plan in the world-”

“We can stay here,” Chandler then said. “No one will notice.”

“I-” Before Veronica could finish her sentence, Chandler had gripped the top half of her shirt and pulled it open, too impatient to race Veronica to the bottom of the row of buttons. She’d already waited so long to see her like this, for whatever fucking reason. So there was no way in hell that she was going to be able to resist keeping her hands off of her chest-

-which was covered in bruises.

No, no, not bruises. _Hickeys_.

Her hands froze. Veronica froze. _She_ froze.

“Heather?” Veronica managed to murmur. But Heather hardly heard her. Her brain was too busy processing what she was seeing. Trying to think of a way that maybe… _just maybe_ the hickeys she had given Veronica two weeks ago had somehow stayed, despite hers having faded long before now. Or maybe they weren’t hickeys? Maybe they were regular bruises. But then why did they look like hickeys, and why the fuck were they accumulating around her _tits_ -

“These aren’t from me,” is all she could say as she stared at the dark marks scattered along her collarbone and chest, amongst other areas that she wanted _all to herself_.

“I…” Veronica croaked out, only to bit her lip before another word could escape her tongue. Chandler stared at her.

“Whose are they?” Chandler muttered, though despite the fact that she wanted _answers_ , she wasn’t sure if she wanted _the_ answer.

Though, even if she did, Veronica didn’t seem to be speaking up. Instead, her eyes dropped, and her hand tucked the separated part of her shirt back together roughly. She swallowed and she averted her gaze from Heather, the other hand resting on her lap tapping its fingers on her thigh anxiously.

“I can’t tell you,” she grumbled. Heather glowered at her.

“And why not?”

Veronica pursed her lips tightly, then shook her head. Keeping one hand clasped on her shirt, she opened the door and leaped out. Heather could only stare at her as she scampered to her door, and watching her shut the front door behind her was enough to cause a pain to crawl up in her throat. She attempted to swallow it, to no avail, as her brain couldn’t stop screaming on repeat,

_She was with someone._

_She was with someone who wasn’t_ me.

The idea honestly stunned her, rendering her unable to start up her car again.

 _Who in the actual_ fuck _would Veronica pick over_ me?

 _That_ thought was enough to make her growl in frustration as she started up her car and slammed a foot on the peddle. Her blood was boiling with frustration, confusion and _anger_ as she skidded down the street, and her mind was so clouded with questions that she at first didn’t see the cars whizzing by at the end of the road.

She had questions, and Veronica had refused to answer them.

Guess it was up to her to find the answers herself.

 

* * *

 

“Is something wrong, Heather?”

Chandler shot Mac an odd look.

“Wrong? Why would anything be wrong?” she asked. “What makes you say that?”

Mac frowned. “You’re using the coffee machine.” She tilted her head towards her hand, which was currently latched around a cup waiting to be filled by watery, flavourless coffee. “You _never_ use the coffee machine.”

Brown liquid began pouring out of the machine, and Chandler just shrugged.

“Change of pace,” she stated bluntly.

Mac frowned. “If you needed caffeine, I probably still have some pills left.”

“I’m fine, honestly,” Chandler reassured her as she pressed a lid down on her now-filled cup. “Just _peachy_.”

She then spun around and began to march over to their table, her heels clacking against the floor louder than usual. Perhaps that was because the cafeteria was pretty much empty, or maybe it was because she’d been on edge all day.

She dumped her clipboard on the table as soon as she got there, then slumped onto the bench. Mac took a seat opposite her, looking somewhat concerned.

“Are you’re sure you’re feeling okay?” she asked. Chandler gave a frustrated groan into her hands, before looking up and shooting her a faux smile.

“Fine!”

Just as she said that, the bell for lunch rang, and only a fraction of a second passed before a group of senior cheerleaders came swarming through the double doors like a hive. She could only scowl at them as they weaved their way around the tables to go to their own.

“It’s about time we got your spot on the team back,” Chandler hissed. Mac looked unsure.

“I don’t think we’re getting it back, Heather,” she said. Chandler just scoffed.

“Are you doubting me?”

“Yes.”

Chandler blinked at her, and Mac realised her mistake.

“I mean… no?” She shrugged. “Sure? You can definitely get my spot on the team back?”

She grinned at her triumphantly. “That’s more like it.” She tilted her chin up with her finger, and Mac’s gaze seemed to light up. “You’re usually the positive one! I’m not letting you throw that role away so easily. Be more optimistic, maybe?”

Mac giggled. “I can try!” Something from behind Chandler then caught her eye. “Oh! There’s Veronica and Heather.”

Hearing Veronica’s name made Chandler’s heart twist, but she made sure to stay as stoic as she could.

“Should we go jump in line with them?”

Chandler shrugged. “You can. I’m having lunch later.”

Mac glanced at her clipboard. “Oh, right. Lunchtime poll.”

“Mhmm.”

Mac then jumped back onto her feet. “Well, I’ll be right back!”

Chandler just gave her a thumbs up, and she darted off to the queue forming in front of the food being served. Chandler twisted her body around and watched as Mac approached the pair already queuing up, and saw her briefly embrace Veronica as she did so, before doing the same to Duke, though the hug was cut shorter than the previous one.

Her attention on Mac didn’t last very long, however, since she couldn’t stop staring at Veronica, who was too busy caught up in a conversation with Mac to notice her doing so. As she glared at the pretty brunette, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of sadness flood through her. It was stupid to feel such a thing, but there was no stopping it.

Who could’ve caught Veronica’s eye? Who was good enough to do such a thing? That someone must’ve been better than her, right?

Who the fuck was better than her? She was Heather-fucking-Chandler. Queen Bee and Head Bitch of the school. Mac had once went so far as to call her the Apex Predator.

“Wait, so you had breakfast today?” The sound of Mac’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she reminded herself to twist her body back around so that her legs were under the table.

“I mean, it was just a breakfast bar,” Duke replied. “But that’s nothing new. I’ve been having those on and off for months.”

“Still! You’ve eaten something.” Mac came back into her view, and Chandler saw her beaming at Duke proudly as she swivelled around back to her seat, with Veronica close behind.

“Yahoo. Throw me a party,” Duke said, voice dry of emotion. “Though, if you do, schedule it in a week, because guess who’s grounded for vomiting up my meals.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at herself. “This cunt.”

“Why would they _ground_ you?” Veronica questioned as she placed her tray opposite Chandler- wait, _excuse me?_

“There was something do with me being an embarrassment, some kind of baggage to be carried around, I guess.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t really listening to their hour long rant at me, to be perfectly honest with you.”

“Veronica,” Chandler suddenly chimed in, staring right at the girl sitting opposite her. “Why are you sitting there?”

Veronica gave her a dumbfounded look.

“I… don’t know?” She glanced at Mac and at Duke. “Am I missing something?”

“You always sit next to _me_ ,” Chandler replied lowly.

“Wait, that’s a rule?” Mac asked. Duke snorted.

“No, we just leave Veronica to sit next to Heather without thinking about it.”

Veronica slowly took hold of her tray, looking as if she were debating standing up or staying in her seat.

“Maybe she’s just desperate to not sit by me,” Duke suggested, giving an offended sigh. “And here I thought we were moving past our differences.” She glimpsed at her, a playful look in her green gaze. Chandler just rolled her eyes.

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” Duke asked as she stepped over the bench. “Do we have to sit in formation now?”

“ _No_ ,” Chandler snapped, gesturing to the space next to her. “Just _sit_.”

“So kind,” Duke commented as she took her spot on the bench. Chandler just let out a huff.

“Having fun on your first day to school with a red scrunchie?” she asked her, lazily gazing at her. Duke gave a smirk and tightened the scrunchie loosely tied around her black hair, standing out against her green outfit.

“I feel like I can crush everyone under my heels.”

“You do?” Mac asked, widening her eyes.

“No, I’m not _that_ extra,” Duke replied. “But it’s a real good look.”

The three of them chuckled, while Chandler could only catch onto the aimed joke and become irritated at such a suggestion.

“Excuse me?” Chandler huffed, glaring at the three of them. “I am _not_ extra!” They all smiled at her innocently.

“We never said you were,” Duke said, batting her lashes at her with a smile. Chandler opened her mouth to fire back at her, but the sound of Veronica’s voice was quick to steal her attention back towards her.

“Hey, JD!”

Ugh. Already she wanted to tune out.

“Hey, Veronica,” she heard JD call from behind her. She whipped her head around and spotted the tall, lanky figure stalking up to their table. Far too close to their sanctuary.

“Need anything?” Veronica shuffled to the edge of the bench to twirl her body around so it would hang off the edge, towards him, away from her, to her chagrin.

“Yeah. I overslept this morning so I was able to pick up this from Seven Eleven on the way.” His hand emerged from his side, a place out of Heather’s view, and to her dismay, a half-empty slurpee cup was sitting in his hold, hovering in front of Veronica. “But then I made the grave mistake of telling Betty I have a migraine, so she banned me from finishing it.”

Veronica let out an indignant sigh. “She’s right! You can’t be drinking this crap with a headache, JD.”

“You’re not my mom,” JD retorted. “No one is.”

Veronica seemed to pause for a second, taking a moment to just stare at him with a slightly startled look.

“Jesus, okay,” she said quietly.

“Anyway, point being, if I drink this, Betty will murder me. So here.” He shoved the cup forward, bumping it against Veronica’s hand. She gave a huff.

“Well, thanks,” she replied, smiling. “Also! If you guys have any plans at any point, do tell me.”

JD simply gave a silent thumbs up in response, before slithering back into the crowd of students, blending into their shadows. Chandler could only hiss in disgust as she watched him go, appalled at his audacity to step so close to their table. It was almost as if he didn’t share the rest of the school’s fear of them.

“Weird,” she heard Duke mutter from next to her. Chandler managed to catch her eye and give an amused snort.

“Right?”

They both smirked at each other, then giggled quietly. Apparently, not quietly enough, since Chandler could feel Veronica’s glare burning into her.

“I can _hear_ you,” she growled.

“Hear what? We didn’t say anything,” Chandler said, batting her lashes at her innocently and leaning on her hand. Veronica rolled her eyes.

“Hear you insulting my _friend_ ,” she shot back as she lifted the slushie up to her mouth, the straw coming in close contact to her lips and- _wait a minute-_

“That _friend_ who you’re about to share saliva with!” she barked as she lunged forward and snatched the straw from the cup. Veronica blinked at her.

“Could you give me that back, please?” she muttered, irritation clear in her tone. Chandler pouted.

“You don’t know where he’s been.” _I know though. He’s been too close to you._

“Oh come on! I share saliva with you all the ti-” before she could finish her sentence, Veronica slammed her palm over her mouth and widened her eyes. Chandler could only glower at her, silently begging her to _stay quiet_.

That silence lasted only a few seconds, before it was interrupted by Mac, whose mouth was also covered, yet failed to hide the snicker that escaped it. Alarm bells began to ring in Chandler’s head, her first thought being that Mac, despite usually needing more time to process such things than any of them, had caught on the underlying meaning behind Veronica’s words.

“What’s so _funny_ , Heather?” she questioned with a low voice. Any smile hiding behind Mac’s palm dropped along with her hand, and she stared back at her cluelessly.

“Nothing!”

Chandler arched a brow at her, before raising her hands and, as subtle as she could, signed to her.

_“Do you know something?”_

Mac tilted her head.

_“No? Don’t know anything.”_

Mac tightly pursed her lips as she stared back, and Chandler did the same, only she eyed her suspiciously. She couldn’t do it for long, however, as Veronica cut them both off.

“So, could I have my straw back, please?” she asked, holding out her hand towards her. Chandler frowned, and moved the straw away from her.

“No, that’s gross.” _And I think you’ve shared saliva with enough people already._

Chandler froze.

_Wait._

She glanced at the straw.

_Wait a second._

“You know what? Be gross.” She flung the straw back at Veronica, not paying attention to how it bounced off her face and onto her lap. “I’ll be back.”

“What’s wrong?” Mac asked her. Chandler didn’t respond, she only stood up from her seat.

“If you’re doing lunchtime poll, don’t forget your clipboard,” Duke added. Chandler groaned.

“I’ll do it _later_ .” She flicked her hand back and forth dismissively. “I’ll be _right back_.”

“Where are you going?” Mac questioned, sounding concerned.

“ _Somewhere,_ ” she replied coldly, as she scanned the packed cafeteria for a familiar dark lurking figure. After a few moments of searching, she came to the conclusion that he simply wasn’t here. She even dared to look in the direction of the loser’s table, and only saw Martha and Betty, who were sitting next to each other rather than opposite, for whatever odd reason.

So, the lone wolf wasn’t in the cafeteria. Made sense. As if he’d survive long out in the open. He’d be pounced on and slaughtered for this week’s entertainment. She’d seen it all before - she’d always had a great view.

But then where the hell _would_ he be lurking? He wouldn’t be out in the light for everyone to see, that’s for sure. It would be somewhere in the shadows. Somewhere hidden away from everyone…

_I know what place matches that description._

Clenching a fist, Heather began weaving her way through the many tables and students, out the double doors of the cafeteria, and through the corridors of the school. The journey to the doors that lead outside went by like a blur, all her brain could think of was _Veronica_ and fucking _Jason Dean_ . _Fucking._

The weather matched her mood perfectly right now. It was grey and dark, and the clouds looked heavy, as if they were about to thunder. It was almost reassuring, as if the world was angry alongside her.

She took a turn, and she was suddenly facing down the alleyway where packs of stoners and skater kids lingered. She was hit with the stench of cigarette smoke and weed burning together like a disgusting couple showing so much PDA that they might as well have been fucking in plain sight. She pitied how bad it must be for Mac, never mind herself, and made a mental note to drown herself with perfume afterwards so that the poor girl didn’t have to deal with catching such a foul scent, one which she knew that she was picking up with each step she took down the alley.

As she stalked past the gloomy cliques circling around each other, she felt their eyes latch onto her. She felt like a fire spreading through a forest, one that was raging and powerful, striking fear into its inhabitants. That fear would lead them to flee, of course. All but one stupid, curious creature who just so happened to be the one person she was looking for.

“You look very out of place,” he said as she stepped out from behind a dumpster. Chandler snarled as JD walked closer to her, far too calm for her liking.

“I’d call that a positive,” she spat back. He let out a low chuckle, before stopping a mere few feet away from her. As soon as he did, she lashed her arm out, grabbed the collar of his flannel and used all her strength to slam him against the brick wall beside them both. It was the first time she saw JD’s expression change from one to calm, to one of startled. Granted, it was only the slight widening of the eyes, but it was still a satisfying sight to get _some_ reaction out of him.

“Now _talk_ ,” she hissed threateningly, leering up at him. JD stared back at her cluelessly, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Talk what?”

She scoffed. “Don’t play dumb with me,” she growled. “Talk _Veronica_.”

He arched a brow. “Veronica? Sure.” He shrugged. “She’s really nice. Way too nice to be hanging around with the swatch dogs and diet coke heads.”

Chandler gaped at him.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“I thought you wanted me to talk,” he said cooly. “And I assume you want me to confess something or other? This feels a lot like an interrogation.” He gestured to Chandler’s current pose, which was her tightly gripping onto JD’s plaid shirt and pressing him up against the wall as securely as she could.

“It is,” she replied. “But that’s not what I wanted to hear from your mouth.”

“Then what _would_ you like to hear?” he asked. “I’m afraid I’m not as good at singing as I used to be, if that’s what you want. My voice is still going through some changes.”

Chandler growled in frustration. “I’m not playing around!”

“This isn’t about that dream I had the other night, is it?”

Chandler stared at him, dumbfounded.

“For fuck’s sake, I _told_ Veronica not to tell you about it,” he groaned, head tilting back and bumping into the wall. “Listen, I wouldn’t _actually_ kill you and get Veronica to make it look like a suicide.”

Chandler stared at him. “I’m sorry, what?” Her voice grew a little high pitched at the mere idea of Veronica doing such a thing.

“Those are just intrusive thoughts! Very common in my messed up brain.” He tapped his head lightly. “And I doubt I could get Veronica to do such a thing anyway. She’s clearly very fond of you.”

That last sentence, despite the whole utterance baffling her, made Chandler’s chest feel warm and fuzzy for a moment.

_NO, get back on task, Heather!_

She shook her head. “Stop dodging the fucking question. I’m not talking about anything you’ve said with that mouth of yours,” she loomed in closer, narrowing her eyes into slits. “I’m talking about what you’ve _done_ with it.”

JD mouthed a broken “what?” and Chandler could safely say she’d never seen him more confused. She sighed.

“What have you done in the past _week_?”

JD let out a thoughtful hum.

“Other than school? Cried.”

Chandler blinked at him a few times.

 _This is getting me nowhere._ She squinted. _How old did those hickeys look?_

“What were you doing on Thursday?” she asked. “Or Friday?”

“Friday I was with Betty and Martha. Thursday I was having a pretty big breakdown since my dad fired a gun inside the house and it triggered my PTSD pretty badly.” He shrugged and smiled at her in a matter-of-fact way. Chandler could only stare at him.

“The fuck? Were you in the war or some shit?”

JD let out a chortle. “No? Do you not know what PTSD is?” He cackled at her. He. JD. Jason Dean. Cackled at _her._

“Yes? It’s something that happens to people who have been in the war, right?”

JD laughed again, even harder this time. It was even more humiliating.

“Close? It happens after some traumatic event. War just so happens to be a pretty big traumatic event.”

Chandler could only stare at him blankly.

“It’s a shock you know jackshit about mental health. It really is,” he said in the driest tone, one that sounded too much like mockery for Heather to allow him to get out of here without at least _one_ bruise. “It’s not like you look as if you’d tell someone with an eating disorder to just eat something, and expect everything to be okay.”

In an attempt to contain the rapidly building rage, Chandler inhaled deeply, trying to push away the fact that what he’d just said was very, very true.

“Anyway, that’s all I can think of. Sorry- _ow!_ ” He yelped at the feeling of her fingernails digging into his clothing, to the point where the sharp ends were on the verge of slicing through his trench coat (which by the way, smelt as if it hadn’t been washed in _decades_ ) and through to his skin.

“I’m _talking_ about those marks you left on Veronica!” she snarled, losing any poise she had managed to maintain. JD widened his eyes a little.

“Marks?” He raised a brow. “No idea what you mean.”

“Yes you do! I’ve seen them myself, and there’s no one else who could’ve made them.”

“So, like, hickeys?” His face scrunched up in confusion. “I didn’t even see any on her before.”

“That’s because they’re all on her collarbone and her _tits_ , you absolute jackass!”

And it was only when that sentence left her tongue, and when a smidge of interest lit up JD’s dull blue eyes to make them look like brighter, sky blue irises, did she realise just how _badly_ she worded that. Her brain hit panic mode, and began to rummage through her thoughts to try and use something, _anything_ as an excuse or an explanation for what she just said. It should’ve been an easy task, but with how much her heart had began to race, it was proving to be a lot more difficult than it usually would be, and she hissed a quiet _“fuck”_ through the gaps of her gritted teeth.

Her train of thought came to a sudden halt when JD let out the quietest snicker, but one she heard all too clearly with how close she was. She leered at him threateningly.

“Don’t laugh.”

JD immediately pursed his lips into a tight line, keeping as much as a straight face as he could.

And after a few seconds, the charade fell apart as he let out a loud cackle. At the very least, he remembered to turn away so that he didn’t end up spraying spit onto Heather’s face, which would’ve just been the cherry on top of the sickly humiliation cake that had been baked and served to her.

“Is _that_ what Veronica means when she says ‘I have a crush on a Heather’?” he managed to say between his laughter. Heather should’ve been mad, but for the briefest of moments, her heart fluttered at the idea of Veronica saying such a thing about her.

And in thinking about it, it felt stupid to be _surprised_ that she had said anything of the sort. But with the amount of experience she’d had with previous relationships, she’d found that most people who described their feelings towards her as a ‘crush’ was in fact, infatuation.

And right now, she was holding onto a shred of hope offered to her that could suggest Veronica was better than that.

“This just got _so_ much more interesting,” JD declared, grinning. “God, if _‘crush’_ is code for _‘I fucked’_ then what does she mean when she says she has a crush on _two_ Heathers?”

She held that shred of hope for perhaps seven seconds. Eight at most.

“ _What_ did you just say?”

JD paused, and his grin dropped. Chandler only stared at him, no longer feeling anger, annoyance, or any emotion of the sort. She just felt… empty.

“I… um…” JD was frowning now too, mouth twitched uncomfortably. “Did I just let something slip that really, _really_ shouldn’t have?”

Heather didn’t bother thinking up a response to his question. Instead, she let her grip on his collar loosen, until her hands dropped to her sides, and her shoulders slumped.

“She said that?” she eventually murmured, her gaze also trailing away from JD’s.

“I, um…” JD stammered. “No?”

The rising intonation was enough indication that he was lying. Well, at least the cogs were turning in her head again to allow her to solve the simplest of puzzles.

The answer to this puzzle? She’d been wrong about JD. So very wrong.

“Which Heather is it?”

JD’s brows knitted together.

“She didn’t tell us.”

Chandler bit her lip. So she had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. Shouldn’t be too hard.

Not at all, now that she actually knew what to look for.

“Are you going to tell anyone about this conversation?”

JD let out a bitter huff. “No.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, along with a lighter. “I don’t like you. At all. But I’m not going to out you.” He lit the cigarette. “Especially since it means I’d be outing Veronica too.”

Chandler’s face scrunched up in doubt, and it seems JD picked up on it. He sighed, and released a cloud of smoke as he did so. The scent of it stung her nostrils, even more so as it carried the memory of her and Veronica, standing in this very spot, bodies pressed up against one another, lips locked…

“Okay, so if I tell you I’m bisexual, I can threaten you not to tell anyone, or I _will_ tell people about you. Make it even. Deal?” He said it in such a calm voice, as if he already knew it would work according to plan.

Perhaps it was because he was right.

She stared back at him grimly, catching sight of the hand he was holding out. It wasn’t a handshake he was offering though. It was a cigarette.

“Deal,” she muttered as she snatched it off of him, then reached inside her blazer to find the pocket where her lighter hid.

As she kept herself busy with lighting her cigarette, JD glimpsed at her curiously.

“If you don’t mind me asking, though,” he began. “What are you?”

Chandler inhaled the bitter smoke, then let it escape through her nose, clouding her vision and making her eyes almost water, before murmuring in response,

“I don’t care.”

 

* * *

 

“You don’t think she was ill, do you?” McNamara mused as she leaned back against the brick wall. Veronica shrugged.

“Maybe? She was probably just busy,” she said, leaning against the wall right next to her, leaving no space between their arms and allowing their shoulders to brush against one another. It was such a small touch, yet it was enough to make McNamara want to curl up next to her, as if Veronica could shield her from the rest of the world. There was nothing she needed shielding from in particular, it was simply a comforting thought.

“Busy with what? _Studying_?” She snickered at the thought. In all her years of knowing Heather Chandler, she had never witnessed her use her free time for any sort of education.

“Maybe she needed a cigarette?” Veronica suggested. “Speaking of which.”

McNamara’s attention was pulled to Veronica reaching into her blazer to find what she could only assume to be a cigarette of her own. Just the thought of it was enough to prepare her body to flee from the horrid scent, and she opened her mouth to protest.

“Veronica, you’re not supposed to smoke in front of Heather, you dumb fuck.”

Both she and Veronica yelped in surprised at the sudden sound of Chandler’s voice, and they both turned to see her standing a mere few feet away from them, in all her glory.

“Heather! Hi,” Veronica greeted, launching herself off the wall and leaving her side. The sudden lack of warmth pressed against her arm left an empty feeling in McNamara, soon replaced by the urge to latch back onto her. She was quick to give into that urge, and wrapped both her arms around Veronica’s, who seemed to be caught off guard by it first, but was quick to relax. McNamara shot her a warm smile, before looking back over to Chandler, who held a blank stare, her gaze not locking with her own or Veronica’s.

“Hi,” she eventually replied, her tone flat.

“Where’d you go before?” Mac asked.

Chandler’s eyes shot towards her.

“Nowhere,” she responded. “It’s not important.”

“Oh.” Mac pouted at the underwhelming answer.

“Well… Heather and I did lunchtime poll for you,” Veronica said. “Since you kinda left with no warning.”

Chandler raised a brow at her.

“I did give a warning,” she shot back. “I told you I was leaving.”

“You said you’d be _right back_ ,” Veronica retorted. “But it’s fine, I just went ahead and did it for you.”

“Mhmm,” Chandler hummed, crossing her arms and digging her nails into her red sleeves.

“You’re welcome,” Veronica mumbled under her breath. McNamara frowned at the sound of annoyance clear in her voice.

“She’s probably grateful,” she whispered to her, standing on her tiptoes to lean closer to her ear. “Maybe she’s just having a bad day.”

Veronica gave her a look of doubt, though Chandler stepped forward and added,

“She’s right. Thanks, Veronica.” Her arms unfolded, and a hand landed on her hip. “Do you want me to give you a ride home in thanks?”

Veronica’s brows raised. “Oh, Mara and I were going to get the bus, but-”

“She can come too,” she cut in, her gaze falling onto McNamara, as well as a friendly smile. “Considering I _usually_ give her a ride to and from school anyway.”

McNamara pouted. “I know! I just feel like Veronica’s so lonely on the bus,” she lamented, while also ignoring the nagging thought that very clearly said _“It’s an excuse to hang out with Veronica, and I’m gonna take it.”_ That almost made it sound like she’d prefer to hang it with _Veronica_ than Heather.

“Of course you do,” Chandler said dryly. “Considering how _well_ you two get along.”

“I’m glad you think so!” McNamara exclaimed cheerfully, while Veronica let out a slow,

“Um… yeah.”

A brief pause fell on them.

“Well, are you coming or not?” Chandler then asked, gesturing them both to follow her. McNamara was quick to do so, happily strutting behind Chandler, though with how much of a slow pace Veronica was moving at, she was forced to let go of her arm so that she could move at her own accord.

“Heather’s at the front, as per usual,” Chandler instructed as soon as they made it to the gleaming red Porsche. McNamara grinned as she skipped around the car, opened up the door and hopped into her designated seat.

“But won’t you be dropping her off first?” Veronica questioned just before McNamara could close the door, allowing her to overhear her and Heather converse outside.

“No, I’m dropping you off first.”

McNamara’s brows knitted curiously.

That was odd. There had always been an order to who gets dropped off first, one formed out of convenience for the one driving. In this case, it should be her first and Veronica last, right?

“Why?” Veronica asked, sounding cautious for a reason McNamara couldn’t figure out.

“It’s none of your business,” Chandler cooly replied. “Now get in.”

Veronica didn’t move for a moment, instead just held Chandler’s gaze. Chandler also stayed put, keeping a still and poised posture as she waited for Veronica to react. Eventually, she let out a sigh, and stalked to the door behind McNamara and slipped onto the back seat. The interaction they shared was off-putting, and McNamara wondered if she should be suspicious about something.

Regardless, she closed the door as Chandler climbed into the driver’s seat, and sat patiently as she started the car up, hardly noticing herself scrape black nail polish off of her nails as she listened to the engine rile up.

“By the way, is there a reason I shouldn’t smoke in front of Mara?”

McNamara’s attention was immediately snapped back to Veronica, and her brain was quick to try and think up an answer that wouldn’t lead to a painfully long conversation. When an answer didn’t pop into mind immediately, she saw Chandler let out a sigh beside her, blue gaze looking dull as she stared ahead.

“She doesn’t like it. So don’t do it.”

_Right. That would’ve been a good way to put it._

Despite feeling a twinge of embarrassment at not thinking up such a simple answer, she still lent Chandler a grateful smile. When Chandler caught her eye, she expected to gain one in return, but that never came. Instead she got a blank stare, one that looked sad, defeated. It was both baffling and concerning.

“Oh, for a second there I thought you might’ve had asthma,” Veronica then chimed in, her voice moving closer to Mac’s ear. She glanced just behind her seat, and saw that she had leaned forward. “Then again, _technically_ speaking, I _sorta_ have asthma?” She guiltily simpered as she spoke, and that guilt only became more clear when McNamara widened her eyes at her.

“You have asthma and yet you fucking _smoke_?”

“ _Ehhh…_ ” She shrugged and gave a smile that McNamara could only interpret as “it’s _fine_ , I swear.”

“Veronica!” McNamara scolded. “That can’t be healthy!”

“To be fair!” Veronica shot back. “I have not had an asthma attack in _years_!”

“ _Still!_ ”

“Even _I’m_ not that reckless,” Chandler mumbled.

“Guys, I’m _fine_ ,” Veronica assured them, though McNamara was _anything_ but assured by this discovery. Call her a pillowcase for caring so much about a seemingly small thing, because she cared a lot about the seemingly small thing that had the potential to seriously harm Veronica. And the idea of such a thing happening was difficult to think of and not frown at. That is, if she ignores the first few weeks of their friendship, but it’s _fine_ , because she’d stopped playing copy-cat with Heather and Heather in favour of developing some form of friendship with Veronica.

Wait a minute. _Her_ not playing _copy-cat?_

Such a peculiar idea.

“We’re here.”

Chandler’s tone may have been dry of any emotion, but it was enough to snap McNamara out of her thoughts. She couldn’t even remember when she’d placed her forehead on the window, but that didn’t matter, since she’d lifted her head back off and twisted her spine around to face Veronica again.

“I’ll see you in psychology tomorrow?” she said, smiling at her. Veronica returned the expression, but not for as long as she thought she would have, since her chocolate coloured irises flickered over to Heather, and the corners of her mouth dropped.

“Yeah, I’ll see you,” she murmured as she continued to look in Chandler’s direction, not even looking away to unbuckle her belt. She placed a hand on the door handle, then finally looked back at her with a serious glare, then leaned forward into her ear.

“I’ll call you later,” she whispered. Whispered? Why did she need to whisper that?

And why was she calling her later again?

“Okay? But why-”

“Bye, Veronica,” Chandler said in a sing-song voice.

Veronica, for exactly two and a half second, didn’t budge from her seat. She only kept a tight hold on the door handle, and her knuckles rippled beneath her tanned skin as if her hand was fighting to stay put or to push the door forward.

If McNamara wasn’t on edge before, she definitely was now. Too many odd and out of place things were happening at once.

But Veronica had gone before she could ask any more questions. She saw her glance back to the car while standing on the path to her door, but Chandler had started up the vehicle at this point, and had drove off before she could watch Veronica open the door to her own house.

Again, strange. Usually Chandler liked to make sure that she wasn’t dropping her friends off to a locked house, and had always checked that they made it inside.

“Heather?”

She turned to Chandler, who didn’t even cast her a second glance with her eyes glued to the road ahead.

“What?”

Her tone was a little less flat. Maybe even slightly aggressive. McNamara’s brows knitted together. All of these little things piling up was making her much more than suspicious. It was making her uncomfortable.

“What’s going on?” She straightened herself up, as if that would bring her any closer to Chandler’s height. “You two are acting odd.”

“I’m aware,” Chandler replied. “I just need to have a little talk with you.”

“Talk?” she echoed. “About what?”

“I’m focusing on the road, Heather. We’ll _talk_ when we get to your house.”

McNamara’s shoulders slumped, and her brain started to wander through her thoughts to figure out what this could all be about. Certainly not something positive. If that was the case, Veronica wouldn’t be acting so _nervous_. No, it had to be something negative, right?

What the hell could she have done?

“Have I done something wrong?” she asked, leaning towards her. Chandler raised her brows.

“ _Wrong?_ Pfft!” Her pitch raised a little bit too high. “What could you have possibly done wrong?” She looked in her direction purely to bat her lashes at her. “Why? _Have_ you done something wrong?” she gasped. “What on earth could you have done?”

McNamara’s brow knitted, puzzled by her high pitched, insincere tone. It was almost as if Chandler were lying, and since it’s always more probably that Chandler was lying rather than telling the truth, she was most definitely lying

 _So I’ve done something wrong._ Her heart sank, and her vision of the trees and houses flying by began to blur in favour of thinking up what it could be.

Had she said something wrong? Well, no. Chandler was very quick to tell her if she’d said something wrong. Unless it was very bad? No, no. She couldn’t recall saying anything of the sort.

 _Okay, so, Heather has been acting odd today,_ she thought to herself. _But especially after she left during lunch?_ She bit her lip. _And when she spoke with Veronica and I before she seemed… off._

 _Maybe she’s mad at_ Veronica _for some reason?_ It was possible. _But then… why does she seem as if she wants to interrogate_ me _?_ Hmm.

Maybe they both did something wrong? _But what have we both done?_

It took her about a second.

Oh.

_Oh shit!_

She was pretty sure she mouthed that to herself, she was that stunned.

“Well, no use talking in the car. We might as well go inside.”

McNamara was dragged back into reality by Chandler’s voice, and she saw that they had made it to her house while her brain was elsewhere. A pit of dread formed in her stomach, threatening to swallow her whole.

“Heather.”

She snapped her head back to Chandler.

“Mhmm?” she replied, voice a near squeak.

“Are we going inside or what?” She opened up her door, while McNamara had yet to unbuckle her own seat belt.

“Oh, uh, yeah!” she exclaimed as she fumbled with her seat belt. “Coming now.”

Curse her brain for thinking up the joke _“it’s not the only thing I’m coming to.”_ Now was _not_ the time.

She eventually managed to free herself from Chandler’s car, and Chandler let her take the lead up the pathway towards her door, most likely because she had the keys to unlock the door in the first place. She had to quickly rummage through her bag to find them, part of her rushing to do so to not keep Heather waiting, the other part wanting to slow down to buy some time before her inevitable interrogation. It didn’t matter which one she went for, however, since the door would have to open _eventually_.

And when it did, everything went quiet. At least outside she could hear the wind blowing past her ears and pulling the leaves in random directions against their will. Now she was alone with Heather, herself and her thoughts.

“Heather-” she attempted to begin as she shut the door behind them both.

“So, did you figure it out yet?” Chandler cut her off. McNamara dared to look in her direction, and saw her arms crossed and her stance tall.

“Assuming we’re talking about the same thing? Yeah,” she mumbled, crossing her own arms, only in a more stiff and reserved posture. One so small compared to Heather.

“Good, so I don’t need to clarify?” She tilted her head and offered a disingenuous smile, with how it was so similar to the smile she would give to all the people she thought so little of. McNamara wondered if she should be offended.

“Maybe? Just to make sure we’re thinking of the same thing.” _Please don’t be thinking about the same thing._

Chandler let out a rough sigh.

“You mean the _thing_ between you and Veronica? _That_ thing?”

Something clasped itself around McNamara’s heart, and she sure it stopped for a split second.

“How did you find out?” is all she could ask.

Any joy from Chandler’s expression, even if it were fake, had drained, now replaced by a dark gaze.

“I have my ways,” she said in a low voice. “Now _talk_.”

McNamara opened her mouth on command, but it was only when her jaw was hanging open did she realise that she had no idea what to say, or what she was _supposed_ to say.

She chose to shrug instead. Chandler arched a brow.

“What do you want me to say?” McNamara asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking you to say anything in _particular_ ,” she shot back. “I just want you to explain yourself.”

McNamara could only frown. She didn’t believe a word of that. If Heather Chandler wanted you to _talk_ , she wanted you to say the right thing, otherwise you were completely and utterly fucked.

“Explain _what_?” She gazed up at her desperately. “What the fuck am I supposed to say that won’t make you kill me?”

Chandler furrowed her brow. “Nothing you say is going to make me want to kill you, Heather,” she grunted.

McNamara dared to give an indignant huff, which caught her attention.

“What?” she questioned.

“You can’t really blame me for thinking so,” McNamara muttered. Chandler’s eyes widened a little.

“And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It _means,_ ” McNamara began, uncrossing her arms. “That you are very difficult to have a civil conversation with when you’re pissed.” She pursed her lips. “Which is why I’m asking you, what am I supposed to say that won’t lead to a screaming match?”

Chandler froze for a moment, blue irises darting back and forth as she tried to think up something to say in response. And rather than allow her to think something up, McNamara spoke again.

“I’m only asking because I don’t want a screaming match with you!” she clarified. _I never do, for that matter._ Her mouth twitched. _It’s no wonder why I never argue with you._

Chandler sharply exhaled.

“Fine. You want to know what to say to me?” She unfolded her arms, and took a step forward. “How about you explain your whole deal with you and Veronica?”

“My deal?” she echoed. “What the hell do you mean by _my deal_?”

Chandler caught her face in her hand, and she let out a groan.

“I was trying to be sweet and use euphemisms,” she grumbled. “I was referring to you fucking Veronica.” She then lifted her head slightly and peeked at her through over her fingertips. “Though, _maybe_ I’m jumping to conclusions.”

McNamara’s nose scrunched up. “Yes, how _sweet_ of you to be asking me about this,” she muttered quietly, but not quiet enough for Heather to not hear, as she straightened up her spine and the hand pinching the bridge of her nose fell to her hip.

“ _Ehem?_ ”

McNamara shrank into her shoulders and averted her eyes from Chandler’s piercing glare.

“I don’t see why you’re interrogating me about this,” she said, this time at a normal volume. “Are you mad that I didn’t tell you that I’m a lesbian? Because I didn’t exactly know for sure until afterwards.” She wasn’t sure if her mind flashing back to the moment when she woke up to a very naked Veronica the morning after that _deal_ they shared the previous night was a positive thing, particularly in this situation, but regardless it made the corner of her mouth curl upwards, and she was sure she felt a rise in heat under her skin.

It was clear that the feeling was not shared by Heather, however, if her darkened gaze was any indication.

“It’s not _that_ I’m mad about,” she growled. “That part was just… unexpected.”

 _Right back at you,_ would have been her retort had she been dumb enough to say it out loud.

“Then what is it?” is what she said instead.

“Did you know?” Chandler asked. McNamara blinked.

“Know what?”

Chandler simply bit her lip, and McNamara gave a frustrated groan.

“Heather, could you be a bit more _clear_ with me if we’re going to talk about this?” she barked. “You _know_ I’m not good at picking up on vague shit like this!”

Chandler’s eyes widened a little, as if she were intrigued by her slight raise in volume. Then she sharply inhaled, and spat back,

“Know about me and Veronica!”

“You already know that I know about you and Veronica, don’t you?” McNamara said, before a thought occurred to her about _that night_. “Unless you mean the whole thing about you and her being friends with benefits, in which case, yes, I know about that too.”

Chandler’s shoulders slumped. “You did?”

McNamara arched her brow. “Yes?” she replied with uncertainty. “Is that not what you wanted me to say?”

“But how did you find out?” Her voice became a little more meek. Not enough for her to sound small, just enough for her to sound surprised. “Unless it was obvious?”

“Veronica told me,” she explained. Chandler narrowed her eyes and snarled.

“Fucking bitch…” she mumbled under her breath, and McNamara was able to put together that she was insulting Veronica rather than her.

“I asked, to be fair!” she clarified. “I was already suspicious. I mean, everything would’ve eventually added up anyway.”

Chandler shook her head. “I’ll talk to her later.” She locked gazes with her again. “So, what? Did she tell you that _before_ or _after_ you both…” her voice trailed off, and she swallowed. McNamara pursed her lips.

“Before,” she said. “Just before.”

“ _Just_ before?” she snapped. McNamara flinched at the sudden spike in volume, and froze in her place as Chandler began stalking towards her like a predator. “You knew about us _just before_ and you _still_ went through with it?” Her voice cracked, and McNamara had to swallow, her throat had become so dry.

“I- y-yes?” she whimpered, staring up at her. “I didn’t think that would be a problem-”

“A _problem_ ?” Chandler snarled. “Yes, it’s a fucking problem! What? Did you just not _care_?”

“Care about _what_ ?” McNamara fired back, louder than she had intended. “About you? About whether or not _you_ would care? _Of course I did, you fucking pillowcase!_ ”

It was only when those words left her mouth, and when she saw the startled expression on Chandler’s face, did she realise what she had just said. Afraid of what her stupid impulses would think up next, she clamped her hands over her mouth, essentially zipping it shut.

There were a few moments of a thick, heavy silence that weighed on both of their shoulders, one heavy enough to keep McNamara frozen in place as Chandler stared her down. She felt as if her icy gaze were slicing into her skull, and suddenly felt the urge to escape. Breaking out of her shock, she darted from her position and scurried past her, eager to simply escape from her glare.

“Heather, don’t just walk away!”

McNamara did indeed stop, but she didn’t turn around.

“I asked her,” she murmured. “Several times, I asked her if you would mind, and she said _no_.”

A pause.

“Why did she say that?”

McNamara thought back to Veronica, and her tone in voice, and her expression when she’d told her that there had been _nothing_ between them. There had been a glint in her eye, one of sadness, maybe disappointment. A flatness in her tone, perhaps a twinge of anger.

“I don’t know, Heather, maybe you should tell _me_ ?” She spun around to meet her, this time chin tilted up. “Maybe you should explain why you’re acting so _shocked_ that Veronica would ditch you for me. Or why she’d be hurt that you don’t seem to care for her at _all_!”

Chandler’s brows knitted, but she remained silent.

“You’re mad at us for fucking? Well, guess what, Veronica had nothing better to do. You were busy with someone else on the same night, probably at the same time, for that matter!”

Any boldness in her expression faltered by what she could guess was guilt. The fact that her words seemed to be breaking a shield of arrogance that Chandler always held up as a defense was enough to give her a boost of confidence. Some sort of reassurance that whatever she was doing was right, or at very least, felt right.

“It’s not _my_ fault she felt as if she was just another fuck!” she continued. “And I wasn’t obliged to consider otherwise! It’s her who has any sort of insight into whatever’s going on between you. Not _me_.”

“No, I just expected you to!” Chandler fired back. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, Heather!”

“I _am_!”

“Then why would you sleep with her when you knew about _us_?”

“ _Because I wanted to!_ ” McNamara yelled, her voice echoing against the walls of the hallway. “I thought it would be _fine_ ! I thought it would be _no different_ from all those times we both slept with the same guy!” She took a step forward. “Clearly I was wrong! Why that is is _beyond_ me!”

“Of _course_ it’s different! It’s _Veronica_!” Chandler hissed. “She isn’t like the guys we pick up, fuck and drop off!”

“Then why would you treat her like one?”

“I don’t!”

“Yes you do! I’m pretty sure it’s why she’s bothering with me in the first place!” She felt a painful clench in her throat, one that made speaking clearly more of a challenge.

“Or maybe she likes you better than me!”

Hearing that sentence suddenly made everything _click_ , and McNamara’s tense muscles relaxed.

“Is _that_ what this is about?” she said calmly. Chandler scrunched up her nose.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she grumbled. McNamara moved towards her slowly, disregarding her reply.

“I knew you had to be acting weird about her for _some_ reason,” she began, keeping her tone gentle. Chandler just looked away from her, scowling. McNamara straightened herself up.

“Heather.”

Chandler shot a side-glimpse at her, but continued looking away.

“Heather, if you like her, then you can just tell me.”

“It’s not like that,” Chandler sneered.

“Please, I’ve just been trying to get an answer out of you!” McNamara begged, scampering closer and gazing up at her. “If that’s it, then I understand!”

“Understand _what_ ?” Chandler spat, whipped her head back in her direction. “Understand why I’m mad that you’d go ahead and do all of _that_ despite knowing _everything_?”

“Well, yes.” McNamara slowly nodded. “You’ve never acted like this before, and we’ve slept with the same people so many times!”

Chandler gave a huff and shrugged.

“So?”

“ _So_ this time I actually know you give a shit!” Another step forward, and this time Chandler stepped back, closer to the door. “And this is me telling you that it shouldn’t be _me_ knowing any of this, it should be _Veronica_ !” Chandler’s mouth twitch, and she caught a shred of hope that she might be getting through to her. For _once_ . “She doesn’t know you care, Heather! She doesn’t know whether or not you like her. I can only figure it out because I _know_ how you act around people! She doesn’t!”

Chandler was staring at the floor, her fingers twitching and tapping her red sleeve in a broken rhythm. Then, without looking up, she spoke.

“You know _nothing_ , Heather,” she snarled. “I don’t like Veronica in that way.”

Anything that may had lifted her hopes off of the ground suddenly dropped, smashing into a million pieces.

McNamara’s gaze darkened.

“Of course I know nothing,” she grumbled, eyes glued to the floor. “How am I supposed to when you don’t tell me _shit_?”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

McNamara lifted her head, glowering at her.

“You _always_ do this! You just shut yourself off from me, from _everyone_ !” Her volume rose again, and her fists clenched into a tight ball on either sides of her hips. “And every time I wonder if it’s _me_ . If I’ve done something wrong. So many times I just back down from arguing with you because of how _scared_ I am!”

Chandler’s eyes widened, breaking what McNamara could only assume was a facade of her usual poise.

“Scared of what? That I’m going to yell at you?” she replied, though her voice was notably quieter than McNamara’s.

“ _No!_ I’ve dealt with plenty of yelling in my life. I’m scared that I’ll hurt you somehow!” She inhaled sharply. “But it’s not _my_ fault you never tell me what’s wrong with you! Why should I be concerned about you when you just keep _distancing_ yourself from me?”

Chandler’s shoulders slumped, and any vexation she had held in her expression drained. McNamara folded her arms, waiting for a response for many drawn out silent moments, only to be met with nothing. As always. She gave a disdainful snort.

“Fine, keep doing it then,” she hissed, the words feeling bitter on her tongue. “Just maybe consider that it isn’t _my_ fault Veronica would choose me over you.” The longer she stared into that icy glare, the more she felt her blood boil, her heart race. In some attempt to calm herself, she spun around, facing away from her. “Hell, if it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t even _be_ with us!”

Hearing her voice say that aloud made her pause.

Whoops.

“Oh _really_?” Chandler sneered. “How so?”

_Yikes. No going back now._

She turned her head and leered at her.

“You honestly think she could afford those heels on her own?” She huffed scornfully. “No, that was _me_ !” She spun around and pointed to herself, both hands pressed against her chest. “That was me saving her from _your wrath!_ ”

Chandler took a step backwards, astounded by the revelation.

“You went behind my _back_ ?” she barked. “You _lied_ to me!”

“Can you _blame_ me?” McNamara fired back, blood boiling beneath her skin, pulse throbbing in her head and chest. “You were going to destroy her if I didn’t do _something_!”

“Whose best friend _are_ you?” she sneered. “Twice! That’s _twice_ you’ve went behind my back!”

“I’m supposed to be _yours_ but you make it so goddamn difficult with how desperate you are to tell everyone to _fuck off!_ ”

Those last two words echoed off the walls, clinging to their ears to make sure the mark that it left would stick. For Chandler, McNamara could assume it was painful. She didn’t need to read her expression or body language to know that. She knew her well enough to know that the truth hurt.

For her, it was different. Painful, but in a different way. It was as if there was a constant ringing against her ear, none of it being legible words. Just sounds. Leftovers from all the yelling and thought processes she’d had to listen to and speak out in such a short amount of time. Her heart had been racing before, she could remember. It still was. She could hear it. It was slamming into her chest, the sound pulsing through her skull. Her hands were sweating, and she dared not rub her fingers together in fear of the rubbery texture of the tiny little ridges scraping against each other. Just the thought made her shudder. Fuck, what was she even thinking about?

Chandler. She was supposed to be thinking about her. Some way to resolve the argument. She was already upset with her - she’d _silenced_ her. Was that the right thing to do? It wasn’t what she usually did. What was she supposed to do?

Movement caught her eye. Bright red was shifting, no turning away from her. Daylight was let loose into her house, natural light invading her vision. The door was opening, and Chandler was moving towards the exit. Wait, no, _she can’t leave! I need to fix this-_

_SLAM!_

No, no more echoing. There was _too much going on._ Too much, she had to block it out. Shut her eyes. Everything’s black. Better. But not good. Her heart was still _loud_ and it was still ramming into her chest. Covering her ears wasn’t stopping it, only hiding. An attempt to hide. Hide from what just happened. What just happened? She tried to put it together, but her thoughts were gone. Black. Like her vision. Where did they go? Was she even _here_? She wasn’t even on her feet anymore. She couldn’t see, but she could tell. The floor was chilling to the bone. It stung. But it was there.

She leaned forward. Feeling. Cold floor. Vague draft brushing over her face. Weaving through her bangs. Bangs tickling her face.

She leaned backward. Still a cold surface. Draft jumped on her from behind. She flinched. Hair brushed over her cheek, exposed her neck to draft.

She leaned forward.

Leaned backward.

Forward.

Back.

Forward.

Back.

Forward.

_Black._

 

* * *

 

_“So what’s your name, dear?”_

Heather looked up to the woman towering over her, plump figure and black hair in tiny braids tied in a bun. She held a friendly smile, one that Heather figured was trustworthy enough.

“My name ith Heath-uh,” she replied as she was led down the corridor. Her attention was immediately stolen from the woman and towards the checkered carpet. She’d seen the carpet before, it was nothing new. Big yellow and red squares with a scratchy, wiry texture. But despite the familiarity, she couldn’t resist jumping from one red square to another. She hopped, and hopped again, almost stumbling at one point.

“Heather! What a lovely name,” she heard the woman say as she took another leap. At one point, the front of her foot scraped against the carpet, preventing her from taking off. She may have fallen over, had the woman’s hand not been placed on her shoulder and held her back.

“Careful, sweetie! You nearly tripped,” she said. “Maybe walk normally the rest of the way? Can’t have you getting hurt.”

Heather frowned, folded her arms, but obeyed, though she felt a twinge of annoyance that the journey to this mystery classroom was no longer fun.

“Oh, it’s over here, Heather!”

Heather stopped in her tracks and whipped her head around to see that the teacher had stopped by a door that she had walked past without even realising. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she scurried back towards the door and into the room when it was opened for her. She entered the room, and it was empty.

“What thith for?” she asked as she looked around the classroom. The door closed, and the woman took the lead towards a table.

“What’s what, for, Heather?” she responded, while pulling out a chair for her.

“Thith. Why am I he-ah?”

“Ah, did your parents not tell you?”

Heather hopped onto the seat pulled out for her and shook her head.

“Well, we’ve been told that you struggle a bit with reading and talking,” she explained. “So these are just some extra classes we’re going to give you to give you a push forward.” She offered a supportive smile, but Heather could only frown.

“Ith that bad?”

“Oh, no, no! Not at all.”

Heather just pouted.

“I can 'till wead,” she muttered. “It just hard thum-times.”

“And we’re going to help you get even better,” the woman said. Heather glanced up at her, feeling at least somewhat intrigued.

“Better? Tho, I’m gonna be weally good?”

“Exactly.” She smiled again, then went over to her desk to gather some papers into a neat pile. Heather’s gaze drifted over to what she could only assume was a name tag of some sort, like her other teachers had on their desks, but what it said was beyond her.

“What that thay?” she asked, pointing towards the writing. The woman glanced at what her finger was directing her to, and she laughed.

“Oh, that’s my name, Heather,” she said. “Mrs Dunnstock.”

She returned to organising her papers, and Heather’s attention was immediately lost. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for something to catch her interest, but sitting in silence with no one else around but a teacher was… well, _boring_.

“I-th thith juth a clath for me?” she asked. “Am I gonna be alone?”

“Oh, no, Heather!” Mrs Dunnstock said as she sat down on her own chair, facing opposite to her. “There will be other people, you’re just early.”

Heather sighed with relief. At least she wouldn’t be by herself. Otherwise people would probably think she was weird, needing an extra class to… wait, what were they doing again?

“What will we be doing?”

“Don’t you worry, I’ll tell all of you when we all get here.” Just as she finished speaking, there was a knock. “Oh! Speaking of which.”

Mrs Dunnstock was quick to stand up from her seat and hurry over to the door. Heather just watched her go from her desk, feet swinging back and forth. She watched as two younger males were let into the room, neither of which she recognised. Not a surprise, she didn’t exactly know anyone within her first couple of weeks of elementary school.

“Take a seat around the table where Heather is sitting, boys,” Mrs Dunnstock instructed. They both did without a word, one taking a seat next to her, the other aside him, only on the side of the table rather than the front.

“Now, the three of you introduce yourselves while we wait for the last person!”

The three of them turned to look at each other, and no one said anything.

“Don’t be shy! You’ll be working with each other for the next few months or so.”

Heather pursed her lips, tapping on the desk impatiently, and when they still refused to say anything, she spoke up,

“I’m Heath-uh.”

They both blinked at her, until the one sitting next to her spoke too.

“Dennis.”

Then the other.

“Um, Garrett.”

Heather grinned at them both.

“Nithe to meet you, Dennith and Gawwett.”

Dennis arched a brow.

“It’s _Dennis_.”

Heather blinked at him, shrinking a little.

“Dennis, be nice!” Mrs Dunnstock called. “She struggles saying certain letters a little.”

“Oh.” He kept a straight face. “Sorry.”

“It fine,” she mumbled, and the conversation fell flat. Heather let her cheek rest in her palm as she looked over to Mrs Dunnstock, who was holding the door open and looking around the corridor. Until, eventually, she let out an “oh!” which caught her attention.

She stepped outside the room and let the door shut, to Heather’s annoyance. Now all she could hear was muffled voices. Though, lucky for her, the classroom had windows which she could peek out of. Outside, she saw a woman, average size and long, wavy dark brown hair. She walked up to Mrs Dunnstock and held a conversation, the woman occasionally glancing down to the floor(?) before looking back up to her with a tired gaze.

Then the door opened again, and she could hear the voices more clearly again.

“Sorry if she’s difficult,” she heard the stranger woman say. Mrs Dunnstock gave a huff.

“I’m sure she won’t be.” She held her hand out in front of her. “Come on, deary! There’s nothing to be scared of.”

Heather leaned forward a bit, trying to catch a glance at who she was talking to. Then, eventually, a small girl stepped out from behind the door frame and cautiously latched onto her hand. Her hair was dark brown, similar to who she could only assume was her mother, only it was more straight and covered more of her face. Or maybe that was because she was staring at the ground and avoiding all eye contact, Heather couldn’t be sure.

The door shut behind them as the girl was lead to the table, until she was directed to the last available seat. Heather managed to catch her eye for about half a second, before she turned away, hopped onto her seat and let her head droop so that she was staring at her hands lying on her lap.

“Good! We’re all here,” Mrs Dunnstock said cheerfully. “Now, I was going to have a quick warm up activity before we get started, just to get to know each other, but it seems I’ve left all the stuff in the other room.” She made her way back over to the door. “Talk amongst yourselves while I’m gone, kids!”

The door shut, and everyone turned towards the new girl. Well, technically, they were all new, she just happened to arrive last, therefore was the newest.

“So, what’s your name?” Garrett asked, leaning forward. The girl didn’t respond, to his annoyance. “Hello? New girl.”

Her head jerked up, looking startled.

“What’s your name?” Dennis asked, more calmly than Garrett.

She still didn’t respond. Heather frowned.

_She’s shy._

“If we tell you our name-th, will you tell u-th your-th?”

She looked at her, but still said nothing. Heather just shrugged, and went along with it, pointing at Garrett to speak. He gave a huff, but did what she had asked.

“Garrett,” he grunted.

“Dennis,” Dennis added.

“And Heath-uh,” Heather said, smiling. Suddenly, the girl’s eyes lit up, and she lifted her head to look at her. She still said nothing, though she did point at her. Heather gave a confused look.

“Huh?”

The girl’s hand dropped, then pointed towards her chest, then tapped two of her fingers on two other fingers on the other hand, followed by her hand quickly shifting into many different shapes.

Heather had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

“Alright, I’m back!”

Heather flinched at Mrs Dunnstock’s announcement as she walked back into the room. She held an orange tray, one with objects inside that clattered around as she moved. She sat down at her chair and placed it in the middle of the table, and Heather saw it was a tray full of coloured pens and glue sticks.

“Now, what we’re going to do is a quick activity,” Mrs Dunnstock began as she reached over to her desk, grabbed the pile of paper she had gathered before and handed it to Garrett. “Pass those around, and we’ll fold them in half.

Soon enough the four of them had a piece of paper each, and folded it in half.

“Now, what we’re going to do is write out names in sign language,” she said as she handed out another four sheets of paper. As those were passed around, she stood up and grabbed four pairs of scissors and placed one in front of each person.

“Thign language?” Heather questioned as she took a sheet of paper from the pile, before handing the last one to the girl who had yet to tell them her name.

“Yes. If you look at the sheet you just got, you’ll see it’s the ASL alphabet,” she explained. “You’re going to cut out the right letters and stick them onto one side of the paper, then on the other side you’ll write your name with the regular alphabet. Everyone understand?”

“Yeah,” three out of four of them said in unison.

“Good! Start when you’re ready.”

Heather glanced back down at the paper, and saw many pictures of different hand shapes, all captioned with their appropriate letter. She first went to H, of course, and cut that out. Next she cut out E, then A, and continued along her name in order. And while doing so, she paid attention to the gesture the hands were making, and for some odd reason, felt as if she recognized them.

“Will we be practicing this?” Dennis asked.

“We’re going to be spelling each other’s names first, then we’ll be doing our own.”

“I thought we were here for reading lessons,” Garrett said.

“We are, this is just a nice activity to get to know each other.”

While they all spoke, Heather had already grabbed a glue stick from the orange tray and was quickly sticking her name down. Soon enough she was finished, though when she looked up, she saw that Dennis and Garrett were still at work.

The other girl, however, seemed to have already finished.

“You both finished, girls?”

Heather nodded.

“If you want you can practice your names. Shouldn’t be too difficult to do each others!”

“Okay,” Heather said, shuffling a little closer to her. “You wanna go firwth or me?”

She didn’t reply with words, only with an awkward shrug, almost as if she didn’t really know _how_ to shrug. Heather pursed her lips.

“Okay, uh… me then.” She reached out to slide the girl’s name towards her, and raised her hand in preparation.

“Wight, um… H,” she mumbled out loud as she tried to mimic the picture. She glanced at her hand to check if it was accurate enough, and to her satisfaction, it was good enough.

“E,” she then said, and luckily, this one wasn’t too hard. Or at least, so she thought, up until the girl nudged her thumb closer to the centre of her palm. She blinked at her, and saw that doing so was more accurate to the picture. “Oh, um, thankth,” she told her, before moving onto the next letter.

“A,” she continued, this time only moving her thumb to the side and her fingers down.

“T.” Bit of an odd one. She had to slip her thumb between two fingers-

Wait.

 _Wait a second_.

“Huh?” Before she could form a ‘T’, she scanned ahead to the rest of the letters, and saw that the remaining letters were _H, E_ and _R._

That spelled Heather. That was _her_ name.

“Wait, your name-th Heath-uh?” she gasped, eyes widening at her. Heather stared back at her, and gave a nod. She then raised her hand, and began to form the letters that she had just tried to create herself, only in a much faster motion. It was easy to recognise, considering how long she’d been staring at the pictures for, as well as the fact she’d definitely seen this motion before-

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “ _That-th_ what you were doing bef-aw!” She beamed excitedly. “You were th-pelling your name!” She gasped again. “ _My_ name!”

“If her name was Heather this whole time, why didn’t she tell us?” Garrett suddenly grunted. Heather turned towards him, and then back towards Heather, who had shrunk in her chair a little, avoiding eye contact. And it was then that it clicked.

“Th-ee tried to!” she retorted, glaring at him. “Th-ee wath twying to thay that her name wath my name!” She glanced at Heather, who had lifted her head to offer a grateful look. She smiled at her. “Be-thi-dth, you know now.”

Garrett frowned at her, but said no more, instead just went back to looking over his own name.

“Is she deaf?” Dennis then asked, glancing at Mrs Dunnstock, who shook her head.

“Some people won’t speak if they can’t or don’t want to,” she replied. “But that doesn’t mean they’re incapable of talking. They’ll just do it in different ways.”

“Like you!” Heather squealed, looking back at Heather. “Can you do it again? Thith time no paper.” She splayed her arms over both her and her own names, then watched in fascination as she spelled her name again, completely from memory and so fluent is was admirable. Only, when she got to the final ‘R’, she continued further, spelling more letters. She did so slowly this time, and pointed towards the left over letters on the sheet of paper they were given.

“You th-pelling thum-thing else?” she asked, tilting her head. Heather nodded and pointed to the sheets of paper again. Heather glanced at the shape her hand was making, and returned to the sheet to find it.

“M?” she asked. Heather nodded, before shifting her hand around. “C?” She nodded again, and moved again.

Slowly, she spelled out the rest of the word, and it soon came down to ‘McNamara’. Not a word Heather was familiar with, and it sounded much more like a name.

“Oh, ith thith your lath-t name?” she asked. Heather McNamara smiled this time as she nodded in response. Heather grinned back. “Well, mine ith Chandler!” she announced. “It-th nithe to meet you, Heath-uh McNamawa-”

She paused.

“Heath-uh McNamawa.”

She grimaced.

“Heath-uh McNam… _awa._ ” She let out a frustrated huff. “Heath-uh Mcnam… d-aw-n it.” She folded her arms and pouted. “I don’t know if you’ve notithed, but I don’t talk vewy well.” Her volume lowered and became more meek. “That-th why I’m he-uh. I’m bad at talking.”

Heather McNamara frowned, before turning to Mrs Dunnstock. She raised her hand to grab her attention, and when she looked over to her, she pointed to some blank coloured card lying on her desk.

“Oh, you want some card, Heather?”

She nodded, and Mrs Dunnstock gave a smile, before grabbing a couple of sheets and handing it to her. Heather then grabbed a yellow pen from the tray and began to write on a cream yellow colour. Heather gave her a curious look, leaning over to try and catch what she was doing. The ink was too bright to read from a distance, though. In fact, it was pretty much impossible.

“Um, Heath-uh?”

Heather McNamara stopped mid-sentence.

“I’m thowwy, but I can’t wead that.”

Heather frowned, and dropped the yellow pen. Heather Chandler felt a twinge of guilt, before glancing into the tray to find a colour she might be able to read. Spotting a dark blue, she grabbed it and handed it to her. Heather McNamara took hold of it, and began to write again. This time, it was much more easier, from what she could see from her angle.

Eventually, she finished writing her sentence and pushed it over to her. Heather Chandler looked over it a few times, muttering the words under her breath as she read,

_Its ok, im bad at talking to._

Heather blinked at it, a grin crawling onto her lips as she read over it a few more times.

“Do you wanna play with me at re-theth?” she asked her hopefully. “I’d love to play with you!”

Heather McNamara widened her eyes. She looked surprised by the offer, but she was quick to nod her head frantically, smiling joyfully. Heather Chandler beamed.

“Yay!” Her hands landed on her shoulders, and though she flinched at first, she soon relaxed. “Thank you, Heath-uh Mac…” She paused.

“...Mac,” she then said. “I’ll juth call you Mac.”

Mac grinned at her, and let out a giggle. It was the first sound that Heather Chandler heard from her, and even though it was quiet and hoarse, she couldn’t help but find it quite _beautiful._

**Author's Note:**

> goodbye EobE, hello Chandlamara arc
> 
> there's a bunch of fics coming up focusing around these two !! yahoo !!
> 
> (also, Mac will be fine,,)
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/


End file.
